


Holy

by slightlyrebelliouswriter



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dom Cardan, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Jude is a dirty mortal liar, Light Dom/sub, PWP without Porn, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soft Dom Cardan, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26096713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyrebelliouswriter/pseuds/slightlyrebelliouswriter
Summary: "You're a liar. A dirty, mortal liar."
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Comments: 14
Kudos: 187
Collections: favorite on TFOTA





	Holy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jurdan Smut Week 2020, a revel hosted by @jurdannet on Tumblr.  
> Day 1: Dom/Sub (very light, very soft)  
> I wrote this on 4 hours of sleep. Enjoy.

“On your knees, darling,” Cardan’s voice is dangerous, silken, like the ruby red ribbon he’s holding.

It takes Jude a great deal of effort to sink obediently to the floor. She is so unused to bending at the knee, but trust is the name of the game—a game Jude needs ample practice playing.

Her palms are sweaty with anticipation, her heartbeat a riot in her chest. She is flushed and bare, kneeling before him like some kind of sinless supplicant, though this may be the biggest lie of them all.

Tonight, Jude had lied.

She’d lied to Cardan and he’d known it from the moment the words left her lips. Part of her thinks she lied just to bait him.

A bait he all too willingly took. His temper had glittered in his eyes before he’d swept them off back to the Royal Chambers, closed and bolted the doors behind them, sent the guards away.

Then, he’d undressed her, as one would a wound.

Now, Jude studies the ornate rug she kneels on, the worn leather of Cardan’s boots as he crouches before her, and thinks this is the best kind of trouble she could have possibly sought to get herself into.

And also the worst. The idea of being at the mercy of another is still a terrifying prospect to the High Queen of Elfhame. Fear, she’d found however, in the right circumstances could be quite the heady aphrodisiac.

“My queen,” Cardan says, brushing a stray hair away from her face. “Exquisite. As stardust.”

Jude can’t help but blush deeper.

Her husband’s compliments, though scarce,were never ordinary, even after all these years. And why should they be, when they loved each other in such extremes?

Cardan takes up her hands gently in his and begins wrapping the long length of ribbon around her wrists, binding them in front so that she is not entirely in control, but not entirely without it either.

It’s funny to Jude that Cardan should be always so careful in this, considering the not-at-all-gentle treatment she is about to receive.

She doesn’t dare laugh, though. Not now.

“Do you understand why I am doing this, Jude,” he asks.

“Yes.” Her eyes flit over the sharp angles of his face. She meets Cardan’s gaze, as bravely as she can. His is calm, like black water before a storm. A storm which shimmers on the edge of the horizon between them.

Cardan stares at her bottom lip, now pulled between her teeth, as if he might bite into it too, given the chance. Jude is sure she would let him.

After a moment, Cardan lowers his gaze back to the task at hand. “And why is that?” He loops the ribbon around itself then pulls tight.

“Because I lied,” she tells him, not an ounce of remorse in her voice.

“Precisely,” he says. “And what is it you lied about?”

“I said I hated you.”

“Yes.” Cardan nods, looping the ribbon a second time. “You said you hated me—in front of the entire court.” He pins her with a glare from underneath the trellis of his lashes, and Jude is reminded of the way in which he used to look upon her frequently—with an odd coupling of ire and lust.

Jude’s heart flies to her throat. There’s no use in denying it. “I did.”

“Why is that a bad thing, sweet villain?”

“Because they might misunderstand,” Jude says. “Because they might think I hate you in earnest.”

“And why is _that_ a bad thing?”

“Because we need to remain a united front for the sake of Elfhame.”

A small smile plays at the corners of his devastating mouth. While her answer is not technically wrong, it’s not the answer he was looking for. Cardan ties off the ribbon in a careful bow, then looks at her with one raised brow, challenging.

Jude looks down at her bound hands, because it’s still hard to admit vulnerability, even to him. Even so exposed as she is now. “Because I don’t actually hate you.” It is a half truth, at best.

Her husband grips her chin between his thumb and the crook of his forefinger, canting her face so that she must look at him.

“ _Prove it._ ” Cardan says this like a dare. Probably because it is. The sweet plum wine of his breath fans across her face, making her head spin.

“I love you,” Jude says, softly. Saying these words aloud is always the greatest submission of herself, her deepest surrender.

Cardan knows this, and looks at her like she is the one and only wonder of the world. “You love me,” he repeats, letting go of her chin. It sounds more like he is trying to convince himself of the statement, rather than confirm she answered his question to his satisfaction.

Jude raises her bound hands to cup his cheeks. His face is warm and a bit stubbly. She strokes the pad of her thumb down his jawline. “Very much,” she says.

The way he closes his eyes, leans into her touch, makes something in her heart fracture a little.

“And I, you, my formidable dagger,” Cardan says. Removing her hands from his face, he places a kiss on both her palms before rising to his feet.

Then, something in his air shifts. He circles her like prey. Jude knows she must stay still, but the urge to follow his every move is a tempting one.

“Looking at you now, I see strength and grace. A sharply honed beauty,” Cardan says from behind her. Jude feels her cheeks heat anew, and she is glad he cannot see her blooming humility.

“I also see a liar,” Cardan continues. “And for liars, there is punishment.”

She can feel the thrumming of her pulse, every inch of her alive under his gaze. “Yes, my husband.”

She hears a rumble roll through Cardan’s chest.

Jude knows full well what that particular term of endearment does to him. And since she is so compromised before him, it is only fair she assert herself where she can.

“I am going to spank you, Jude,” Cardan tells her, apparently deciding to ignore transgression. “And when that is through, I am going to take you.”

A delicious curl of desire licks Jude’s core. She shivers.

“Does that sound like fair punishment to you?” he asks.

“Yes, my husband.”

Cardan is at her ear, long fingers at her throat before she can blink. They are feather-light, tracing up the veins in her neck, feeling the pound of her pulse there. It is threatening enough that Jude is given to staying very, very still. She feels the drive of his shoulder against her back.

“If you call me that one more time, Jude,” he growls so close to her that she can feel the vibrations of his voice skitter down her spine, “I will have no choice but to bend you over and fuck you with wild abandon. I will not be concerned with your pleasure, nor will I await your release.”

Jude’s eyes widen and she draws in a sharp breath.

“This will bring me no great amount of satisfaction,” Cardan continues, “As I do so love to feel you come around me. You want to satisfy me, don’t you, Jude?”

Jude swallows and nods.

“Good,” Cardan says, stroking a hand down her hair before moving away. “You are safe, dear Jude, but you will relinquish. Now, lean forward and be still.”

Jude complies, without hesitation this time. Since her wrists are bound, she goes down on her elbows, ass raised in the air.

She is completely exposed. Vulnerable.

Cardan kneels down beside her, sidling up to her left hip. She can feel the bulge straining beneath his trousers.

She’s not sure if it’s this or the knowledge of what’s to come that makes her slick with want. But when she feels Cardan’s palm come to rest on her backside, the simple touch sends a lance of heat coursing through her.

Her thighs press together.

“So eager, my queen,” Cardan hums, steadying her with a grip of his free hand on her right hip. “One might wonder if you devised this plan from the start.”

Jude grins wickedly at the floor, but says nothing.

“Naughty thing,” he says.

Without warning, he brings his hand down against her bare flesh. It’s not a hard blow, just enough for a slight pang of pain. But the surprise of it makes her gasp.

“You’re a liar, Jude,” Cardan says, rubbing slow circles with his palm for a moment, letting her adjust to the new sensation.

She feels his hand disappear again, and braces herself. When he slaps her the second time, it’s harder, a bright shock against her skin. The sound echoes off the Royal Chamber walls.

Jude bites her lip.

The combination of sharp pain followed by Cardan’s cool, soothing ministrations is disconcerting. She shouldn’t like this as much as she does. This pain, this yielding. Everything about it goes against her very instincts. Yet, Jude grows more desperate still.

Suddenly, Cardan delivers three consecutive strokes, hard and fast.

“A dirty.” _Slap._ “Mortal.” _Thwap._ “Liar.” _Smack._

Then, he swipes two wicked fingers up the length of her heat.

Jude moans, feeling herself pulse at the unexpected sensitivity. Her hips rock back of their own volition, chasing the friction she craves.

Cardan clicks his tongue at that. “I told you to be still,” he reminds her. “Do not test my patience, sweet villain.”

Jude’s fists ball up in front of her, pulling against their binds. In her head, she slings a slew of curses at him.

He is rock hard and throbbing, pressed firmly against her hip. It is a cruel kind of torture to feel his arousal and be without the power to sate it.

She wants nothing more than to be able to touch him, to clamber up his torso and peel him out of his clothes, to feel him hot against her skin, to make him tremble under _her_ touch.

“I’ll be still,” she gasps instead. “Please. I’ll be still.”

Cardan says nothing, only resumes his soothing circles over the rawness of her backside. After a moment, he slaps her rapidly, once on her ass and once more against her swollen folds.

Jude yelps, the contact sending a shudder through her.

The effort it takes to remain unmoving is immense. Her breath is ragged in her chest. She is positively aching, and entirely unsure when or even _if_ Cardan will give her what she desires.

“What are you?”

“A liar,” Jude chokes out.

Cardan brings his hand down hard again, and there’s a sharp spark of commingled pleasure and pain that swells in her.

“Louder.”

“I’m a liar,” she nearly shouts.

He strikes her cunt twice more. “Wrong. Try again.”

“I’m a liar!” She wails into the carpet. “A dirty, mortal liar!”

Jude is on the verge of tears now. She has experienced pain far greater than this before, but none which has held her in such agonised suspense. Such terrible denial.

The flesh of her ass is raw as roses, dripping with the evidence of her arousal between her thighs. She feels the heated prickle of shame flood her face, and yet, she remains still, gaze glued to the floor.

“Look at you,” Cardan says, wonderment in his voice. “You are breathtaking.”

He runs a slender finger up her slit before dipping down between her folds. His finger pumps and curls inside her, feeling her inner walls. The feeling is so delectable that Jude must stop herself from arching into his touch.

Cardan hums, delighted. “You’re drenched, wife,” he says, withdrawing his hand.

A frenzied heat surges through her at the loss of contact. Jude can only manage a sobbed, “ _Cardan.”_

Relief is a balm like no other as her husband shrugs out of his shirt and positions himself behind her, spreading her legs with his own. The sound of his zipper sets her squirming.

When he finally, miraculously, slides into her, he does so in one smooth stroke, until he is buried deep, to the hilt.

Cardan hisses as he bottoms out. But, to Jude’s dismay, he does not move. Just stays there, sheathed in her completely, savouring the feeling of her warmth around him.

Jude is keening, the soft sounds muffled by the carpet as she tries her very best not to writhe against him. Because _gods_ , does she need that ambrosial ache. Starting in her belly and lapping up her spine until every inch of her is flooded.

“Cardan,” she grits out, fingernails digging into the rug.

“Yes, my darling god?” he says, as if he doesn’t know what could possibly be wrong. As if he doesn’t know what torments her so.

Jude swallows. This terrible anticipation makes her feel like live wires twist frenetic under her skin. She _hates_ it.

“ _Cardan. Please._ ”

“Please, what, dear Jude?”

“ _Move!_ ” Her voice is taut in her throat from all of this waiting and wanting and wondering. If Jude were not held at his mercy, she would have pinned him to the floor by now.

A sudden chill sinks in her stomach before she knows exactly why. Then, Cardan has a fistful of her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking it so that she arches further into him.

He leans down over her, making her gasp. This angle is treacherously deep.

“Unfortunately,” Cardan growls low in her ear. “I don’t take commands from lying mortals.”

Jude is perplexed by the desire his words stir up. It licks her to the quick, going against everything she thought she knew about herself.

But the fact that remains is this: Jude craves the force of his arms, the moreish knowledge of his desire, his own unmooring. It is a particular tincture of power which only Cardan can give her. And for that, she must surrender.

Abruptly, he releases her hair and in within the span of a few breaths, strikes her across the ass four times.

The hits come in rapid succession, with much the same vigor as before. Only these are more intense. Her eyes snap open.

Jude, now filled to the brim with her husband’s cock, feels every slap of his palm against her flesh as if they were jolts of electricity shooting straight through her core. They leave her nerves jangled.

She cries out, clenching around Cardan’s length as each blow lands. A low rumbling sound goes through him.

“You feel,” he rasps, voice frayed from restraint, “Utterly divine, my love.”

Jude moans but is unable to form a response. For all the world, she cannot think past the moony haze of her mind, nor the heavenly pressure in her belly. After a moment, she registers the slip of Cardan’s tail coming to wrap gently around her thigh. It is both a reassurance and a question.

All Jude can think to say, the only thing to pass from her lips is, “I love you.”

With that, Cardan is moving.

The first few strokes are achingly slow, dragging all the way out before plunging back in. They strike a match within her.

Soon, Cardan is building a rhythm, thrusts picking up speed. Jude’s pulse races in tandem. That heat in her core clambouring for purchase as she’s driven again and again into the floor.

Jude thinks about the burns her knees will have tomorrow, from this carpet, and a thrill runs through her.

She can hear Cardan’s labored breathing behind her, his little gasps and groans that make her toes curl. He is deliciously hers. The thought makes her tremble in her own delight.

The slapping sounds their joining makes drive her wild. Before she knows it, she can feel the steady rise of her release. Despite her better judgement, Jude cannot help but meet him thrust for thrust.

Cardan seems too far gone to notice his wife’s efforts. He grips her hips as he pounds into her, relentless.

But when Jude turns her head to look at him, he is somewhere else. And that simply will not do. No, Jude would have him here and now, in this moment.

She slows her pace. She wishes she could reach back and pull him to the present with her touch alone. But as her hands are bound, she cannot.

“Cardan,” Jude croons.

At the sound of her voice, Cardan’s eyes snap to hers. He blinks for a moment. Then, he’s slowing his rhythm, too.

“Oh, Jude,” he soughs, scooping her up into his arms so that they are both upright and kneeling, Jude straddling his lap. She leans back against his chest. “My sweet Jude.”

His hand goes to her clit, fingers working slow circles. The added stimulation brings forth plumous mewls from Jude. She rolls her hips in time with his ministrations, feeling the novelty of this angle.

It is the stuff of gods, what they are doing.

“Tell me again,” Cardan murmurs gruffly in her ear.

Jude knows precisely what he means by this. “I love you,” she says, swirling herself over him. He thrums into her neck, nips at her earlobes. His hips begin to buck of their own accord, rutting up to meet the tidal wave of her movements.

Over and over, she tells him. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” His mouth covers hers in a searing kiss. “I love you so much that sometimes I can hardly think of anything else.”

“Gods above,” Cardan groans and, splaying his free hand on her belly, he pushes them forward once more. He’s pounding into her, fingers flying in circles over her clit until she is all sensation. Until she is screaming.

Jude is being cleaved apart. She is trembling on high. Just as it seems her wave of pleasure will rise and rise forever, finally, it breaks.

Jude cries out her release, a jumble of “I love you’s” and Cardan’s name, echoing around the Royal Chambers as she writhes beneath him.

And with that, Cardan tips over the edge, too. With a final slam, he spills into her, shouting a string of words. Her name. Only her name. Over and over against the back of her neck like a curse as he comes.

Jude is still pulsing, shaking in the aftermath when Cardan loops his arms around her waist. He brings them both to rest on their sides, not caring at all that they are on the floor. Cardan tucks Jude into his chest.

He pulls her wrists into his hands and begins unravelling the red ribbon that binds them. Jude, for her part, feels both heavy and as if she could float away on a fog.

“Jude?” Cardan’s voice sounds from behind her.

 _“Hmm?”_ She can barely muster the energy open her lids.

“Are you aware how much I love you?”

“ ‘Course I am,” she mumbles.

Cardan gives a soft chuckle. “Liar.”

Jude’s grin is so wide, she’s sure all of Elfhame can see it.

☽☽☽☽☽

**Author's Note:**

> So this was… much softer than I intended, a bit mushy there at the end 😅 but I really hope you enjoyed it! I had so much fun writing this one. This is just the first of a few works I’m putting out this week for Jurdan Smut Week, so look out for those.   
> As always, if you have any kind comments, please do share them with me. I’m terrible at responding in a timely fashion, but I WILL respond to every one. They absolutely make my day and ultimately encourage me to keep writing.  
> I am @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 on Tumblr. All my TFOTA writing and edits are posted on there as well.  
> Back to the forest now!  
> -Em 🖤💫


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